I Shot an Arrow into the Air
by WillowDryad
Summary: Little Prince Corin is in trouble. Can Edmund help him get out?


**Disclaimer: Susan, Edmund and Peter Pevensie and Corin Thunder-Fist and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

I SHOT AN ARROW INTO THE AIR

Edmund studied his image before the full-length looking glass in the chamber he had been given in Castle Anvard. His black boots were polished to rival the mirror itself, the Dwarf-crafted leather molded to his legs like a second skin. His breeches, too, were black, only slightly darker than the deep blue of his doublet. Relieving all the somber colors was the pure white of the shirt that showed at the V of the doublet's neckline and through its intricately slashed sleeves.

He turned his head, making sure his black hair was as smooth and glossy as his boots and that the heavy silver chain he wore lay straight over his shoulders. Even Susan would be pleased. She had accompanied him and Peter to the court of King Lune, leaving Lucy behind at Cair Paravel despite Peter's misgivings. But Lucy had been five years a Queen and she had not hesitated to remind her oldest brother of the fact. Still, Narnia had been quiet for the past little while, and after a long, hard-fought winter with the Ettin Giants and knowing, too, that Oreius would be always at Lucy's side in the event of emergency, Peter finally agreed to go with Edmund and Susan to sunny Anvard.

Edmund was glad of it. King Lune was always a jolly host, and his five-year-old son, Prince Corin, was always good for some entertainment. Edmund chuckled to himself remembering the last time he and Peter had come to Anvard to visit, though he doubted Susan would allow him to do anything very outrageous now. She had already forbidden Edmund to pull any pranks during their stay or to teach Corin any of his tricks. It was disappointing to say the least, especially when Peter had stood by all the while looking gravely pious, obviously agreeing with her.

Ah, well, at least the food was good and this afternoon was to be an especially grand banquet. They had already had quite a fine time that morning with a number of friendly competitions with King Lune's knights in wrestling (Peter won) and swordplay (Edmund won that) and long jump (won by a wizened little old courtier called Sproutling, much to the dismay of both Narnian Kings and the delight of the Narnian Queen there present). Of course, there was no one to touch Susan in archery, and King Lune was so pleased with her feats and the effortlessness with which she accomplished them, that he promised to present her with a rich prize at the banquet that very day.

Edmund was just about to put his royal crown on his head and go down to the banquet hall when there came an uncertain little knock on his door.

"Yes?"

The door swung open just a few inches and a pair of big blue eyes peered around it.

Edmund smiled. "Come in, Corin. Are you hungry? Your father did say you could come to the banquet, didn't he?"

The little Prince blinked at him and then, with a glance behind him, came all the way into the room. "I don't– I don't think I can go."

"Why not? Aren't you feeling well?"

The boy bit his lip. "Do you think my father would be very angry with me if I, uh, borrowed something that I wasn't supposed to?"

Edmund lifted one eyebrow. "Borrowed?"

"And Queen Susan?"

"What did you borrow, Corin?"

Corin ducked his head. "I just was wondering if they'd be very angry if I lost Queen Susan's prize."

"Susan's prize?" Edmund put his hands on his hips. "What prize? And what have you done?"

Corin looked back at the door and then hurried to shut it. Then he turned to Edmund again. "Father had a golden arrow made for her. For a prize because she won all the challenges this morning. And I thought he might be very angry if I, uh, borrowed it and then, um, kind of . . . " Again he bit his lip.

"Kind of what?" Edmund demanded.

"Well, kind of lost it."

Corin cringed, turning his big blue eyes up to Edmund, looking fearful and desperate and hopeful all at once.

Edmund exhaled heavily. "How did you lose it? Where did you lose it? _Why_ did you lose it?"

The boy's still-babyish lower lip trembled. "It's very pretty and I liked it. I thought it would be nice to try to shoot. I didn't think it might not work like the usual ones."

Edmund sighed. "Of all the feather-witted–" He broke off seeing the great tears that suddenly welled into the little Prince's eyes. "Now, don't cry, Corin. I didn't mean it. It's all right." He got down on one knee and put his arms around the boy. "It's all right. What if we went to look for it? It's ten to one we'll find it in no time and put it right back and no one the wiser. What do you say?"

"We– we will?"

"Sure we will. Now dry your eyes and show me where you lost it."

Corin wiped his nose with the back of his hand and then, as an afterthought, with the handkerchief Edmund offered him. "Well, I always like to shoot in the meadow behind the garden."

"We'll start there, shall we?"

Corin smiled sunnily, took Edmund by the hand and led him out into the corridor, down two flights of stairs, through the kitchens (which smelled deliciously of the coming banquet), out into the garden and then finally into the meadow he had spoken of. The day was clear and sunny, though the meadow itself was a bit soggy from the last night's rain.

Edmund looked around. "Which way did you shoot it?"

Corin looked furtively back toward the castle and then pointed toward the forest. "I always shoot out this way, just so I don't accidently hit someone. My father is always telling me to watch where I shoot so I don't lose so many arrows, but sometimes I forget."

They walked into the dim coolness of the trees, but Edmund saw no sign of any arrows, golden or otherwise. "Do you remember which direction it went?"

The boy shrugged helplessly. "I know a lot of times my arrows end up in there."

 _In there_ was the heart of a large bramble patch, thick and thorny.

"I don't know, Corin," Edmund began, but at the look of despair on the boy's face he managed an encouraging smile. "I don't know if it will take long to find the arrow in there."

Rewarded with a look of trust and adoration, Edmund waded into the patch, grateful for his well-made boots, but still skewered and raked by thorns from his knees to his hips and on his unprotected hands. A few minutes later, he waded back out, sucking one pierced finger. "Are you sure it went in here?"

Corin's brow furrowed under his golden curls. "Well, sometimes my arrows get stuck up in this tree."

He indicated a tall pine, and Edmund sighed as he looked up at it. More needles. Shaking the trunk yielded no results, so there was nothing for him to do but climb a ways up and see what he could see.

He took a running leap to the lowest branch, scraped his already sore hands on the bark and then pushed his way to his feet. The branches were thick, and it was hard to see anything in the forest shadows.

"Did you find anything?" Corin called up to him in a piping little voice.

"Nothing yet. I'll climb a bit higher." Edmund worked his way up a few more feet, still seeing nothing. He was only about ten feet off the ground, but the tree was too slender for him to go any higher. He reached up and tried to shake the branches above him, hoping the golden arrow would suddenly tumble out, but instead the branch he was standing on made an ominous creaking sound. "Corin, you'd better—"

The words turned into a gasp as he came crashing to the ground, hitting and hit by bristled branches all the way down. He landed flat on his back with a sudden thud. Corin was making a not-so-successful attempt to look concerned rather than entertained.

"I was going to tell you," Edmund said evenly, "to look out."

"Are you hurt, King Edmund?" the boy asked.

Edmund exhaled and managed a faint smile. "Just a little battered about. But I didn't see any sign of the arrow up there. Maybe we'd better get some of your father's men to help us."

"No!" Corin cried. "If my father found out that I– I– "

Tears pooled in his eyes once more, and Edmund quickly shushed him.

"All right. All right. We'll keep looking." He struggled to his feet, pulled a small pine bough from the back of his shirt, and then pushed the hair out of his eyes. "Where else do you think the arrow might be?"

Corin frowned, thinking hard. "Well, there's only one other place my arrows usually go when I lose them, but you probably won't want to look there."

"Where?"

The young Prince led Edmund a little way down the path and stopped before a low, muddy bog.

"Corin–"

The boy scuffed his little boot against the hard-packed path. "I knew you wouldn't want to go in there. My father told me if I mussed my clothes before the banquet, I shouldn't be allowed to come, but if Queen Susan's arrow is missing when it's time to give it to her . . . "

Edmund sighed. "I'll look. Don't worry."

The bog wasn't that deep, but it was murky and muddy and filled with ooze that came to the tops of his boots and then seeped inside. He felt around with his feet as he trudged through the muck until he finally stepped on something hard and slender.

"Wait a minute," he said as Corin watched from the dry path. "This might be it, but it's stuck."

"Hurray! There's nobody else as clever as you!"

Edmund thrust his hand down into the bog and tugged, tugged again, tugged harder. With a snap, whatever he had hold of broke off and he sat down hard. In the mud.

All he had hold of was a broken root.

He pressed his lips tight together, clenched his jaw, and looked heavenward, slowly counting ten. No, shrieking at the top of his lungs would not help the matter. It would only frighten poor little Corin and probably make him cry again.

Slowly, deliberately, Edmund dragged himself to his feet. "All right, I want you to think very hard. You had to have seen it fly after you shot it. Where did you last see it?"

"The arrow?"

"Yes, Corin, the arrow. The golden arrow your father is supposed to present to Queen Susan at the banquet in a few minutes."

Corin gave him an innocent smile. "Over there."

He pointed back toward the meadow. Toward where Peter stood looking mildly at them.

"Peter." Edmund glared at the boy and then at his brother. "Do you happen to know where Lune's golden arrow is?"

"Do you mean this one?" Peter took his hand from behind his back, displaying an elegantly crafted arrow, its point, feathers and slender shaft made of gleaming gold. "I looked out my window and saw you two come out here, and I was wondering what you were doing. Really, Edmund, you shouldn't be out here playing in the dirt when we've got a royal banquet to attend. What will Susan say?"

Edmund froze and then looked down at himself. His hands were scraped and bruised as was, he was sure, the rest of his body. He could feel the grime and sweat on his face and in his hair. His doublet was torn and his pristine white shirt was splattered with mud and, in more than one place, dabbled with blood. He had a sneaking suspicion that more than a few stitches in the back of his sodden breeches had popped loose and his boots, his lovely shining boots, were beyond hope. All this because Peter–

"You have the arrow?" he said evenly.

Peter grinned.

"And you never had the arrow, did you, Corin?"

The boy moved just the slightest bit closer to Peter and shook his head.

"It was very naught of you," Edmund said quite as terribly as he could manage, " _very_ naught, to tell me you had lost it when you hadn't."

"But I didn't."

"I beg your pardon?" Edmund couldn't help the quiver in his voice. "Didn't you just tell me you had borrowed the arrow and lost it out here?"

Corin shook his head resolutely.

"Of course you did! Why do you think I've been searching all around and slogging through all kinds of muck looking for it?"

Corin shrugged. "All I did was ask you what you thought would happen if I did lose it. And then I told you where I usually lost my arrows."

"Corin!"

The boy ducked his head and then turned his eyes up to Edmund, pleading and helpless. "Don't you love me anymore?"

Edmund opened his mouth, stopped himself, and snapped it shut again. Then he wiped a trickle of grimy sweat from his neck and glared at his brother.

"You know, Ed," Peter said as he stood there toying with the golden arrow, "Corin is so good at being a nuisance, I'd wager someone gave him lessons sometime or other. I wonder who that could have been?" Peter gave the boy a wink and took him by the hand. "You'd better come with me. I expect the banquet will be starting soon, and we don't want to miss it." He glanced back at his brother. "You might want to run a comb through your hair before you come to the table. You know how Susan is about being tidy."

Edmund stood there gobsmacked as Peter and Corin walked into the meadow toward the castle. They got about a hundred yards ahead before he bolted after them.

"PETER!"

With a whoop, Peter slung Corin under one arm and sprinted through the garden gate, making for the kitchen door. Just as they ducked inside, Edmund heard a gasp from the balcony above him.

"Edmund Alexander Pevensie! You're filthy! Come inside this minute!"

Edmund looked up at Susan who was standing with her hands on her hips, gorgeously formidable in a gown of gold and pearl. For a moment he didn't move, his chest heaving more with indignation than with exertion, and then he grinned.

"Sorry, Su. Lost track of the time playing with Corin."

The little beast and his malicious mentor in mischief had probably replaced the loathsome golden arrow already without Lune ever even knowing it had been missing. And, no doubt, they would both be on their best, most charming behavior during the banquet. It seemed guile was the order of the day. Edmund could do guile.

"Not to worry, sister mine," he called to Susan. "I'll be cleaned up in a trice. I wouldn't miss this banquet for all the worlds."

He and Peter had exchanged volleys. Edmund's was the next move.

 **Author's Note: As you see, more nonsense from me. If you haven't read my story Lessons, you might want to. This will make much more sense if you have. Ariyah (Ariel_of_Narnia) requested this story quite a while ago, but I present it to you today in honor of her natal anniversary. I hope you like it, dear one!**

 **P. S. For all of you reading _Traitor's Game_ , not to worry. I haven't forgotten you, and I haven't abandoned the story. More is coming soon.***

 ***Like Aslan, I call all times soon. ;)**


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